


The Mattress Theft

by shewearsglasses



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gwen Doesn't Die, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted robbery, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Exasperated Peter, Gwen Stacy is awesome, Human Wade Wilson, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Neck Kissing, Prison, Robbery, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewearsglasses/pseuds/shewearsglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade tries to steal a mattress. Peter is exasperated at every turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mattress Theft

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, I'm obsessed with these two dorks and I can't stop writing them for the life of me. Also Gwen Stacy forever.

“What’re you in for?”

Peter didn’t even bother to look up, “Shut the fuck up, Wilson.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he said. Peter eyed Wade, the man was grinning like an idiot. Said idiot had just gotten arrested for stealing a mattress.

Peter said, “I’m so mad at you right now. Don’t even look at me.” He could feel Wade looking at him.

“Are we really on the last name thing?” Wade shifted, gaze finally lifting from Peter’s face. “Cause I’m pretty sure we were past that when I—”

“If you make a dirty joke right now,” Peter turned to him, his mouth twitching. “So, help me, I will murder you. And then,” he laughed. He was going insane; this was what Wade was doing to him. He needed psychiatric help, “And then, _maybe_ I’ll have fucking _deserved_ this prison sentence!”

A cop near the door looked up. Peter had shouted the last part. The man—whose eyebrows were seriously dark for how blond his hair was—glared at them, then turned back to his computer.

Wade was staring at him, the grin on his face impossibly bigger, “Aw, babe. I’m so proud. But ya know,” he leaned in and Peter groaned, his head fell back against the cement wall. “If ya wanna talk dirty, you might wanna be a little more creative and wordy. Try being a little more specific, like how are you gonna murder me? With a rusty knife or—”

Peter tuned the rest out. He began hitting his head against the wall repeatedly until the cop said, “Hey. Don’t make me have to separate you too!”

Wade grinned at him, waving despite the handcuffs linking his wrists, “That won’t be a problem, officer!” Odd to hear Wade defend them. Odd further to have to sit on a prison bench, and be told that you only have one call, when usually you’re on the other end of that line, listening to Wade spill about the “total misunderstanding” he’d just gotten himself into.

When he was given his quarter, he called Gwen. She laughed at him until the cop bothered him to speed it up, and then she promised to get him in the morning. “But, Gwen!”

“Spend a little time with your _boyfriend_ , Peter,” she said, still laughing. He could hear Flash in the background, bumbling around the kitchen—probably. “Who’s that?” Came his whisper, Gwen must’ve put a hand over the microphone cause the rest of the conversation was muffled then she hung up.

“I hate you,” Peter muttered into the dead line.

Wade was grinning wider, if that was even possible, when Peter returned. “Who’d ya call?”

Peter sat down on the other side of the bench, but Wade slid over until their thighs were touching. “Gwen,” Peter said. He shifted further away from Wade, but then he was on the edge of the bench and Wade was pressing him into the wall.

“Should I be jealous?” Wade said into the shell of Peter’s ear, “Isn’t that your ex?”

Peter pressed his face into the wall, “Don’t talk to me.”

“Aw, Petey. Don’t be like that, remember that time we—”

Peter groaned, the sound was both shrill and garbled, and the cop glared at them again. This horrible night just wouldn’t end.

And then it did.

Peter glared at Gwen as she grinned back. Wade practically hopped, skipped, and jumped toward her. He picked her up off the ground and swung her around like she weighed nothing—Peter having slept with her once or twice knew that she definitely weighed more than nothing. His back could vouch for that on the occasion that they’d tried to ‘mix it up’ a little. Gwen laughed like the six-year old Wade seemed to be pretending she was, “Put me down!” She protested, but it was without any real malice. Gwen loved Wade. Peter was still trying to pretend he didn’t.

“How’d you steal a mattress?” Gwen asked as she was driving them home. Peter’s car had been abandoned at the mall when they’d been shoved into a police car.

Wade grinned, that was all he seemed to do lately. If only it didn’t make Peter’s stomach turn over; if only it didn’t make Peter want to forget this whole mess and kiss him right then and there. Peter grunted and pressed his face further into the seat. Wade had called shotgun and Peter was more than willing to give it up in order to lie across the backseat and wallow in his post-arrest gloom.

“I’m glad you asked,” Wade said. “As you well know, Petey and me have _quite_ the sex life.” Peter choked, but Gwen only laughed and nodded along. “And we recently ran into a problem with a flat mattress!”

“Flat?” Gwen said, and Peter remembered having the same reaction when Wade had mentioned it just three days earlier.

“Yes, flat.” Wade continued the story as if that made perfect sense and cleared up all confusion in Gwen’s mind, “And well we needed a new one. So, Petey said that this place had the best—and cheapest—mattresses in town, so we go down. And I forgot my wallet. Peter too.”

“I had mine,” Peter said. Wade ignored him.

“So, of course we had to steal one.”

“Of course,” Gwen said.

“We picked out this one beautiful thing that was fat enough and big enough and would work perfectly for Naked Thursdays.”

“Of course,” Gwen said again. She was giggling. Peter felt the car jerk to a stop, and he briefly worried about their safety, then he remembered that _Gwen_ was driving. Had Wade been the driver, and Gwen the talker, they’d have undoubtedly already crashed into something.

“So I told Petey, darling, to stall the cashier dude.”

“The manager,” Peter said. He was ignored again.

“He sucks at that, by the way,” Wade glanced back at Peter and grinned. Peter closed his eyes. “Just in case you’re ever in my situation.”

Gwen laughed along, “Just in case.”

“That’s when I grabbed the mattress and headed for the door, subtly of course. But Peter said something about the weather and that’s when the—what’d you call him, babe?”

“The manager,” Peter said. “And don’t call me babe.”

Wade said, “Thanks, babe. That’s when the manager turned to look outside—honestly, Peter, why would you direct him in _my_ direction? Amateur—and saw me carrying a King-sized mattress through the sliding doors. I was in the safe zone! No tags or nothing so the doors didn’t go off just blatant eye contact, ya feel?”

“I feel,” Gwen said. Peter hated how cute she was being. She just _had_ to get along with Wade; she _had_ to be nice and casual and a good listener. Why couldn’t she just be angry with him? Why was Peter the only one ever exasperated over his boyfriend’s crazy stunts?

This was the worst story Peter had ever heard. It was almost worse than that time he’d _experienced_ it. “And that was when the cops came and you let us rot in jail,” Peter finished.

Peter’s eyes were still closed, but he just knew Wade was pouting at him, “Aw, babe—”

“Don’t,” Peter said.

“Why’d you have to ruin my story?”

“I hate you,” Peter said, rolling over so his back was to them. He heard a seat belt unbuckle and someone fumble around, and then Wade was crawling into the backseat with him. He groaned loudly, much to Gwen’s utter enjoyment. He was going to kill her later.

Wade buried his face in Peter’s back. “Wade,” Gwen said, and despite her laughter she sounded somewhat worried. “Please be careful, I’m driving.” Wade nodded into Peter, and Peter couldn’t help but enjoy the motion. He sighed and turned around.

Wade shifted to curl around him on the seat. It was cramped, but with their legs tangled up and over the seat, they managed to fit together. “I’m sorry,” Wade said into Peter’s neck.

He nodded, “I know you are.” Wade pressed a kiss into his shoulder. Peter hummed, “I went along with it too. I shouldn’t really be mad.”

“But you are,” Wade said, grinning. “Let’s fight. We can have aggressive make-up sex.”

Gwen laughed harder, then turned on the radio, giving them a bit of space. “Most of our sex is aggressive,” Peter said, his voice far off. He was letting it go. He wasn’t angry anymore; he just wanted to fall asleep. He’d barely slept at all last night.

Wade shifted, and Peter opened his eyes. Wade grinned. “What?” Peter said.

“Should we try it again?”

Peter shoved him off the seat.


End file.
